


lemon cakes

by wayfxrer



Series: the assassin [2]
Category: Andromeda Six (Visual Novel)
Genre: ... So, Angst, F/M, Might seem like hatesex but tbh they're both just emotionally constipated, Nova snaps and Damon is here for it, Remember what I said about the kitchen staying clean, Smut, Yeah not anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:42:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24142288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wayfxrer/pseuds/wayfxrer
Summary: “I heard they were your favourite.”Nova pauses in her cleaning. “I’m sorry?” She manages to get out, unsure of what to say.“Lemon cakes,” Damon states plainly, turning to face her. “They are your favourite, right?”— sequel to ‘lick the spoon’.
Relationships: Damon Reznor/Original Female Character(s), Damon Reznor/Traveler
Series: the assassin [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1755367
Comments: 13
Kudos: 61





	lemon cakes

**Author's Note:**

> "You will always fall in love, and it will always be like having your throat cut, just that fast."
> 
> — Catherynne M. Valente, 'Deathless'

Damon Reznor is an extraordinarily patient individual, even by a nobler man’s begrudging standards. After all, he’d once waited two weeks on a dingy rooftop in the Bronze District for an opening to terminate a very wealthy but very paranoid merchant, and had gotten paid handsomely for a job well done. But he’s sure that Nova is unaware of just how patient he can be, and how calculating he can truly get when it comes to getting what he wants. 

It’s been a month since Cal’s birthday. Four weeks of Nova avoiding Damon after that incident in the kitchens, and four weeks of Damon allowing her to do just that. He was no stranger to strategy: the tighter you wound someone, the harder they’d snap. And after seeing just the slightest bit of what the princess was hiding under her composed exterior, the thought of having her right where he wanted her, completely bared to him under his gaze with nowhere to hide, only served to fuel the predatorial instinct inside of him. 

So it’s safe to say that Nova is rather startled when the assassin just walks into her room one evening, looking her over with a cool expression. 

“Need your help for something,” he says nonchalantly, shoving a hand in his pocket and earning a quirked eyebrow from the princess. “Meet me outside in two minutes.”

Damon closes the door behind him, and Nova sighs, snapping her book shut. Though dealing with him was the last thing she’d rather be doing at the moment, Damon didn’t usually come calling for her at her door, and so she assumed it must’ve been about something quite important. 

Also, she was pretty damn sure that she’d locked that door.

Pulling on her boots, she starts to wonder whether something urgent has come up, continuing to dwell on it even after she meets him outside and silently follows him as he walks. 

Needless to say, she’s rather confused when he leads her to the kitchens - and her heart jumps a little, traitorously remembering the last time that they were alone together here.

“What’s this about?” She questions apprehensively at the doorway, hesitating with her entry. But her confusion only grows when Damon waves dismissively at a little pile of small yellow fruit on the counter, and her eyes widen.

“Are those… lemons?” Nova can’t help the slight awe that creeps into her voice at the sight, and Damon schools his features into a perfect picture of calm, trying to hide how pleased with himself he is at the reaction he’d already expected from her. 

He nods, eyes following her as she gingerly picks one of the fruits up. “There’s a shit ton of them on Orion, where they grow naturally, and Goldis has a fair amount of it via import - but there aren't a lot of them out here on this side of the system. Count yourself lucky I managed to snag a small shipment of it from a Kitalphan trader the last time we were on Teranium.” 

“I…” Nova’s brows pull together, creasing in the middle. “Thanks, I guess?”

Damon gestures in a ‘you’re welcome’ kind of way, before shrugging off his coat and rolling up his sleeves. He notices her eyes flicker across his form, and his responding grin is nothing short of insufferable.

“I didn’t invite you here to gape,” he throws out blatantly, and Nova shoots him a glare. “Start by zesting and juicing the lemons. I’ll handle the melted butter.”

With that he turns his back on her, seemingly already done with the conversation, and Nova huffs out a breath through her nose, setting the lemon back and looking for a knife and a chopping board. She never knew how to act around Damon or how to guess at the head and tail of him, and she supposed the only way she could deal with that was to just stop trying. He was an enigma, as shadowy as ink in water, and she was tired of trying to hold onto him only for him to slip through her fingers.

Nova keeps her guard up, Damon keeps his distance, and the two work in silence. Aside from the odd _‘pass me the eggs’_ or _'are you done with the baking powder?’_ , they don’t speak, and Nova, who usually never minded silence, was starting to feel the heaviness of the tension. 

It isn’t until the muffin pan has spent ten minutes in the oven that Damon finally says something from where he stands, carefully watching the cakes as they begin to rise. 

“I heard they were your favourite.”

Nova pauses in her cleaning up, hands poised to dump dirty bowls and spoons into the sink. “I’m sorry?” She manages to get out, unsure of what to say.

“Lemon cakes,” Damon states plainly, turning to face her. “They _are_ your favourite, right?”

She frowns at him, unsure of what’s brought this on, before the realisation hits: the lemons. Asking her to come to the kitchens. In his own uniquely twisted way, he’s doing this for _her_. Nova stares Damon down, feeling more and more like a rogue moon being pulled into his orbit, and her fingers curl into her palm. 

“How did you know?” She questions, quite certain that she’s never mentioned it to him, and Damon’s answering smile reaffirms that she hasn’t.

“An assassin has his ways,” he answers in that infuriating fashion of his, and Nova begins to feel the frustration bubbling in her gut. So what if he did this for her? So what if he took the time to learn what she liked? Did things always have to be so roundabout, an endless game of cat-and-mouse? 

She throws a cleaning rag down on the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. “Alright then, keep your trade secrets,” she says coldly. “But why?”

As if in answer to a challenge, Damon steps closer, lightning-blue gaze raking over her petite frame. “So many questions,” he clicks his tongue at her. “Can’t I want to be a decent person to our poor resident stowaway?”

That was it, that damned line - and Nova decided that she’d had enough. If they were just going to keep running in circles, Damon could keep running them alone. 

“Seems like you don’t need my help anymore,” she says through gritted teeth, spinning on her heel and making for the exit. “I’m leaving.”

“Don’t.” Damon’s voice is both a steady anchor and the churning sea around it, and Nova hates it, hates the way she listens and _keeps_ listening, even when it’s never what she wants him to say. 

She whirls around, eyes blazing, and Damon’s face flickers with the slightest hint of surprise. “What do you want, Damon?” Nova spits out, the anger in her belly boiling over. “That’s all I ever ask you, but you never have an answer. It’s always another diversion, another new distraction. So I’ll ask you again: what do you want? Or better yet, what do you want from _me_?”

Nova is breathing hard at the end of it, head dizzy with rage, and yet Damon seems unfazed, the only sign that he was listening the sharp edge to the look he gives her. 

“Even if I told you,” he says, his tone deathly calm, “would you be able to handle it?”

Her heart is pounding so hard she can feel her pulse in her ears. “What?”

Damon stalks towards her, yanking her to him by the wrist and looking her dead in the eyes. “Must be so tiresome, having that armour up all the time,” he murmurs, venomously sweet. “What if I wanted you to drop the act, sweetheart? Be a little honest with yourself.”

Nova’s golden irises are burning like the heart of a flame, and a primal part of Damon wants to see how close he can get before getting singed. “I’m not acting,” she hisses, trying to shake him off. “You want to talk about dropping the armour, Damon? Maybe you’d like to do me the honor of going first and setting an example.”

She knows she’s struck a chord when his eyes narrow into deadly slits, but she could care less. The gloves were off now, and if they were going to get into it eventually, it might as well be now. 

“I’m tired of playing games,” she breathes, her gaze locked onto his. “Especially ones like these where all we’re meant to do is lose.”

There’s always been electricity between them, Nova knows this - but right now it feels like they’re standing in the eye of the storm, Damon’s grip still wrenched tightly around her wrist, his eyes intense but unreadable. 

But then Damon dips his thumb into the bowl next to him, smearing lemon cake batter onto her mouth, and Nova jerks away in alarm. “What are you–”

He doesn’t let her finish, his face leaning forward to meet hers as he seizes her chin firmly between two fingers, licking away the batter on her lips.

Nova gasps, face flushed with heat, and Damon wraps a strong arm around her waist, eliminating all distance between them. Then his mouth is on hers, hungry, _wanting -_ and under his burning assault, what’s left of Nova’s resistance begins to crumble.

It feels like an inevitable collision, the kiss - like two asteroids destined to obliterate each other on impact. Curling her fingers into the collar of his shirt, she pulls him closer, wanting more, _needing_ more, her lips parting for his tongue. Damon almost snarls at how eager she is for him, how soft she feels everywhere, how fucking _sweet_ she tastes - and before Nova can realise what he’s doing he’s lifted her onto the counter, pulling her flush against him.

“Tell me to stop,” he growls against the curve of her jaw. “Lie to the both of us. Put this little game of ours off for one more day, I dare you.”

The words ignite her and also empty her. She knows Damon; what was she expecting from him? A thoughtful confession? A gentle smile? Her heart squeezes painfully, shrivelling into a hardened husk. No, that wasn’t his way at all. 

But if she was going to have him, she’d take him any way she could get him - even if it wasn’t in the way she wanted. Even if it hurt. 

“If you’re going to fuck me,” she finally whispers, looking up at him through thick lashes, “then shut up and _fuck_ me.”

His blue eyes spark with something dangerous, and Damon and Nova collide once more, all greedy hands and desperate breaths and lips and teeth and tongue. She can’t tug his belt off fast enough, can’t kick her boots off quick enough, and when Damon breaks away from the kiss to take off his shirt, she does away with her own dress, the offending material joining her ripped stockings on the floor. 

Nova’s underwear is nothing fancy - black with practical, clean lines and a modest lace trim - but the sight of her this bare before him, hair a mess and lips swollen from kissing, has Damon fighting hard to rein himself in. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the swell of her breast, one hand sliding the strap of her bra off her shoulder, and when he finally takes her into his mouth Nova digs her nails into his bicep, muffling the shameful sound she makes with the back of her palm.

Damon’s eyes are stern as he pulls her hand away from her mouth, releasing her with a very obscene _pop_ that makes her toes curl. “I want to hear you,” he rasps, sucking a bruise onto the skin near her collarbone as he tugs her underwear down past her hips. “Let me hear you.”

For someone who’s usually so cold, his hands are unbearably hot - and when one scorches a trail up her thigh only to end up between her legs, Nova sucks in a deep breath, her heart stuttering. The smirk he gives her is savage in its beauty, and he bends forward, catching her bottom lip between his teeth.

“Easy, princess,” he whispers into her mouth. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The way he says it - his tone almost tender - sends Nova’s senses reeling, her heart quivering treacherously in her chest. But before she can wipe the emotion from her mind, Damon’s touch right where she wants him does the honors, her thoughts going white when he slowly slips a finger inside her. 

_Oh._ This is nothing like her own hand in the dark of her room, or those rushed fumblings during one of her showers. And when Damon curls his finger _just so_ , she can’t help the pained noise that she makes, wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him closer. He adds a second finger, watching her face closely as he pumps them inside of her, and Nova has never felt more vulnerable, more exposed than this moment. 

The stretch is dizzying, Damon’s fingers thicker than she’s used to, but Nova needs more. She trails a hand down his muscular abdomen, slipping it past the waistband of his underwear as she laves the strong column of his neck with open-mouthed kisses. When she wraps her hand around him, Damon takes the hint, watching with a hawk-like focus as she nudges his clothes lower down his hips, tugging him free from the confines of his pants.

He’s never given much thought to the idea of heaven before, being as hell-bound as he is - but Damon thinks that the low, keening whine that Nova makes when he finally pushes himself inside her must come pretty close. She’s hot and slick and too fucking _tight_ , and his hands grip her waist hard enough to bruise as he groans into her shoulder.

Nova’s breathing heavily now, red painted across her cheeks as she looks at him with hooded, dazed eyes, and it’s taking him all his self-restraint to refrain from slamming into her over and over, pulling moans from her mouth so loud that the entire ship can hear. Instead he starts with shallow, experimental thrusts, clenching his jaw as he feels her flutter around him, her nails dragging across the back of his neck. 

She’s almost sure she could come like this, with Damon filling her up so good and her hair wound around his fist as he tilts her head back, but it’s not enough, not even close. She pulls him to her, her tongue searing a heated path along his skin. 

“Fuck me harder, _Reznor_ ,” she hisses in his ear, and in retaliation Damon growls, sinking his teeth into her neck. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Damon’s self-imposed reins snap like fragile thread at the vulgar words coming from the princess’s mouth, and with one ruthless stroke he buries himself to the hilt inside her, the loud whimper that rips from Nova’s throat sending chills down his spine. He grants her no respite, immediately setting a relentless pace with his punishingly hard thrusts, and he swears he could get off alone on how fucked out she looks on his cock.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” He grins smugly as he rewards her with another deep thrust. “I’ll be sure to try my best.”

He hooks her leg over his arm, spreading her wider, and he reaches so much deeper like this, Nova seeing stars in the edge of her vision. There’s a desperate heat building inside her with every merciless move of his, and she can’t hold back the moans that slip past her lips.

“Damon,” she breathes, panting hard as she clenches around him, and his thrusts begin to pick up speed, chasing an inevitable high. “Fuck, _Damon_.”

He wants to loop the sound of her whispering his name like this on repeat, wants to seal every detail of her that he sees into memory to save it for another day, but it’s in that instant that Damon knows better. That this, and the recollection of it, will never be enough. 

Sucking lightly on her tongue, his hand finds the sensitive nub between her thighs, stroking circles around it with his thumb. “Come for me,” he demands in a low voice, pulling harder on her hair and causing her to arch her body against him. “I want you to come for me, Nova.”

_Nova._ Not ‘princess’. Not ‘sweetheart’. Just Nova. 

The sound of her name falling from his mouth is enough to drive her over the edge, and with a final thrust from Damon that leaves her breathless, every color she’s ever seen blooms into an explosive galaxy behind her eyelids. Tightening around him, her body starts to tremble, Damon muffling the lewd sound she makes with a hard kiss as he follows right after her, groaning into her mouth. 

The come-down takes quite a moment, much longer than he’s used to, but he finds that he can’t complain when the view looks this delicious. He squeezes her waist once, slowly slipping himself out of her, and Nova lets out a shaky exhale, realising just how empty she feels without him inside her.

He runs a hand through his raven-black hair, shooting her a roguish smile as he trails a hand along her thigh. “Well, that was fun,” he laughs. “Very… interesting, princess.”

Damon isn’t aware that he’s said something wrong until he feels Nova tense beneath his touch, her gaze hardening. 

“You wanted me to drop the act, so let me be completely honest with you,” she begins, removing his hands from where they’re planted on her body, and Damon, rather taken aback, just lets her. “I don’t know why I feel this way - against all better judgement, against all warning signs - but I care for you. I care for you more than you know, more than I should allow. And it scares me. Knowing how deep it runs. Knowing you’ll never feel the same way.”

Nova looks right into his shuttered blue gaze, daring him to interrupt her. “Because that’s just the way you are. You get a thrill out of conquering the unconquerable, out of playing the game. And though that may be all that it is to you, I’m sorry to say that it’s more than just a game to me.”

For the first time in a very long time, Damon Reznor finds himself falling short of a sarcastic remark. Instead, he simply watches as she slides off of the counter, knees buckling a little when her feet hit the ground. Slowly, she picks up her dress and what’s left of her ruined stockings, shrugging her clothes back on. 

“You’ve gotten what you’ve wanted,” Nova says blankly as she straightens out her skirts, her voice void of all emotion. “So grant me this mercy, and never touch me again.”

The words continue to ring in Damon’s head, long after she’s shut the door behind her and the air around him grows cold without her warmth. Almost mechanically, he gathers his clothes and puts them back on, trying and failing to not mull over her words. 

Damon starts to wonder if it’s some kind of trap, if it’s just another calculated move in their long, drawn-out chess match - but the terrible sincerity in her voice silences even the most dubious of his suspicions. He’s not sure what to do with the knowledge that she’s given him, her honesty much more than he bargained for, and he’s even more unsettled by the way something long forbidden in him had stirred when she was speaking, her words hitting far too close to home to be comfortable. 

But worst of all, he’d even foolishly thought that one taste would be enough to sate him; that with this one, spared intimacy, he’d be able to get what he wanted.

The truth brands itself into his thoughts with a terrifying clarity - he hasn’t. And with that, he leaves the kitchens behind him - the lemon cakes already burnt around their edges, and already forgotten.


End file.
